A low muttering from the driver, still impassive as before, was all the reply, and at the same instant a sharp report was heard, and a pistol bullet whizzed beside his hat.
“Will you go now?” cried Bagenal Daly, as he levelled another weapon on the window; but no second entreaty was necessary, and, with his bead bent down almost to the mane, and with a mingled cry for mercy and imprecation together, he drove the spurs into his jaded beast, and whipped with all his might through the almost deserted town. With the despairing energy of one who felt his life was in peril, the wretched postboy hurried madly forward, urging the tired animals up the hills, and caring neither for rut nor hollow on his onward course, till at length, blown and exhausted, the animals came to a dead stand, and, with heaving flanks and outstretched forelegs, refused to budge a step farther.
“There!” cried the postboy, as, dropping from the saddle, he fell on his knees upon the road, “shoot, and be d———d to you; I can do no more.”
The terrified expression of the fellow's face as the lamp of the chaise threw its light upon him, seemed to change the current of Daly's thoughts, for he laughed loud and heartily as he looked upon him.
“Come, come,” said he, good-humoredly, “is not that Kilbeggan where I see the lights yonder?”
“Sorra bit of it,” sighed the other, “it is only Horseleap.”
“Well, push on to Horseleap; perhaps they 've horses there.”
“Begorra! you might as well look for black tay in a bog-hole; 't is a poor 'shebeen' is the only thing in the village;” and, so saying, he took the bridle on his arm, and walked along before the horses, who, with drooping heads, tottered after at a foot pace.
About half an hour of such travelling brought Daly in front of a miserable cabin, over the door of which a creaking sign proclaimed accommodation for man and beast. To the partial truth of this statement the bright glare of a fire that shone between the chinks of the shutters bore witness, and, disengaging himself from the chaise, Daly knocked loudly for admission. There are few less conciliating sounds to the ears of a hot-tempered man than those hesitating whispers which, while exposed to a storm himself, he hears deliberating on the question of his admission. Such were the mutterings Daly now listened to, and to which he was about to reply by forcing his entrance, when the door was opened by a man in the dress of a peasant, who somewhat sulkily demanded what he wanted.
“Horses, if you have them, to reach Kilbeggan,” said Daly, “and if you have not, a good fire and shelter until they can be procured;” and as he spoke, he pushed past the man, and entered the room from which the blazing light proceeded.